


Falling in Love With the Professor

by mrs_squirrel_chester



Series: Professor John Winchester [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Consensual Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Reader NSFW, Female Reader SMUT, NSFW, Professor!John AU, Professor!John NSFW, Professor!John SMUT, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-26
Updated: 2016-01-26
Packaged: 2018-05-16 10:49:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5825614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_squirrel_chester/pseuds/mrs_squirrel_chester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The relationship between John and the reader progresses before receiving a cryptic call from Chuck.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling in Love With the Professor

The bathroom was thick with humidity, feeling more like a sauna than anything else. With an almost empty glass of wine on the floor and John’s hands on your shoulders, you couldn’t have felt any more relaxed. When he pushed gently on your shoulder blades, you pulled your legs up with a sigh, and rest your cheek on your knees. Thick thumbs pressed on either side of your spine, and starting at the base of your neck, they drug down, stopping once they reached the small dimples at your tailbone. 

You hissed as pain bit at the edge of relief. “Jesus, babe.”

John chuckled low in his throat, repeating the motion several more times. “Feel good?”

A long moan spilled out as his thumbs pushed harder into your lower back. “You’ve got no fucking idea.”

It had been John’s suggestion to take the night off. No grading papers, no last minute preparations for finals, nothing but rest and relaxation. And what a night it had been. He ordered dinner from the small Chinese restaurant at the end of the block, making sure they put in extra cream cheese won-tons. A bottle of your favorite wine and candles accompanied the meal. There was no talk about school, not a word was uttered about Chuck. Any conversation was about you or him. Where you grew up and went to school, all your favorites and not so favorites, boyfriends and girlfriends, and then finally, children. Sure, you had spent the better part of the last month with John, but small talk had never really occurred. You were always preoccupied with worrying about Chuck, making sure everything was ready for finals, and with each other.

John and Mary had two sons, Dean and Sam. You had known their names and what they were doing now, but this was the first time he talked about them as children, the first time he talked candidly about Mary. You could see how much he loved them, how much he had loved her… _still_ loved her just by the way his eyes shone. He ran his thumb along his bare ring finger as if he missed the weight of the wedding ring, which maybe he did, but it had been his idea to take it off. If he wanted to wear it, you had no qualms about it.

By the end of dessert, you had every intention of retiring to the bedroom, but John had one more ace up his sleeve. While you sat on the edge of the bed in a towel, he drew a hot bath, complete with lavender bath oil. It felt like slipping into heaven. With your hair pinned up, John washed your back with a sponge. When you rest against his chest, he washed your arms and stomach, drawing lazy bubbled circles on your breasts. And now, he was giving you a massage. A girl could sure as hell get used to this.

Leaning back, you turned to kiss him, sighing into his mouth. He rubbed the tip of his nose against yours as he cupped your face, tangling his fingers in the damp curls on the back of your neck. “Whatcha thinking?” His chest rumbled against your back as he spoke.

You opened your mouth to say what was at the forefront of your mind, but chickened out at the last second. It was entirely too soon to tell him how you really felt, that whenever you were apart, all you could think about was him. How you craved to feel him, to have him buried so deep inside you that it was hard to tell where he ended and you began. It was too soon to tell him that, even though it had only been a month, you were falling in love with him. It was too much, too soon, but that didn’t stop your heart from bursting when he planned a night just like this. It didn’t stop your stomach from somersaulting when he shot you a wink in the classroom. And it sure as hell didn’t stop the deep ache that only he could soothe.

“You don’t want to know.”

With a hand on your neck, he stopped you from turning away from him. His brows furrowed, wrinkling his forehead. “I wouldn’t have asked.”

Swallowing hard, you closed your eyes, trying to gather all the courage you could. You had said _I love you_ to your parents, close friends, and family. Then there was that one guy in college that you dated for two years, but he turned out to be a cheating asshole. Anyone you had ever said you loved ended up leaving you in one way or another. You had come to the conclusion that those three words doomed any relationship you had, or would ever have.

You shook your head against his hand as your eyes welled up. “No.”

John sighed, blowing hot, wine coated breath into your face as he grabbed your hips. He turned you in his lap, chocolate eyes drilling into yours. “Y/N, something is obviously on your mind.”

“It’s nothing.” Never one for having a great poker face, you dropped your gaze to his chest and stared hard at the pirate skull tattoo, absentmindedly running your nails over it, through the dark patch of hair.

“It’s not nothing. It’s obviously something. But if you really don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to. I just don’t want you to think that you can’t talk to me.”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you met his much softer gaze. You knew that if you didn’t say anything now, you’d regret it. “I think I might be falling in love with you.”

Everything about him relaxed as soon as the words all but tumbled from your lips. He smiled shyly, and rest his hand on yours, pressing your palm flat against his chest. “I think I might be falling in love with you, too.”

You didn’t know what his reaction would be, but that wasn’t what you were expecting. “What?”

“I said, I think I might be falling in love with you, too.”

“But… isn’t it too soon? I mean, we just met, and –“ you ran a finger over the tan line that occupied his ring finger.

Turning his hand over so that your palm melded into his, he cupped your face, running a thumb under your bottom lip. “Who said there had to be a time limit on something like this? Did I love Mary? Yes. Do I still miss her? Of course I do. But that doesn’t mean I’m not capable of loving another person. That doesn’t mean I’m not capable of loving you.”

That was it. The final push you didn’t need to fall for him even more. You grabbed his face, scraping your nails through his beard before kissing him. He tasted like wine and Chinese takeout, smelled like lavender and cigar smoke. Long fingers gripped onto your lower back when you rocked your hips into his, driving the length of his hardening cock between the lips of your soap slicked pussy.

He shuddered, moaning against your tongue when you pressed your breasts into his chest, nipples dragging through the damp hair as you rode him, not quite letting the wide head of his cock in. John grabbed the back of your neck and bit your bottom lip. “I wanna fuck you, baby.”

You grabbed him by the base, dragging your nails down the length of that pulsing vein you loved so much, and placed his head at your entrance. “Then fuck me.”

John snapped his hips up almost painfully fast, driving the air from your lungs, and splashing water over the edge of the tub. Digging his fingers into your ass, he ground your hips even more into his. Despite the fact that it hurt, his pelvis biting into yours, the head of his cock bottoming out, you nipped his earlobe and all but begged him not to stop.

With a sneer, he dug his fingers into your ass hard enough that you knew you’d be bruised, but you didn’t care. All that mattered was that he drove himself into you, again and again. Your breasts were bouncing as you rode him, arching your back so his cock all but slammed into the bundle of nerves that sent you over the edge. The orgasm was all consuming, burning through you like lava, scorching everything it touches.

His mouth was on your neck, kissing, licking, sucking, and biting while his beard burned into your flush skin. You dug your nails into his shoulders as you quaked around him, but it wasn’t until he sucked your nipple between his teeth, biting it enough that you hissed, that you came hard enough your toes curled. Oh, you’ve had plenty of amazing orgasms with John Winchester at the helm, but this one left those in the dust.

Black ate at the edges of your vision, but you didn’t want to black out this time. This time, you wanted to see and feel everything, even the pain that mixed with the pleasure. Lifting your head, you stared into his lust blown eyes, grunting as his cock twitched and the vein pulsed. You clamped onto him like a vice, and when he came, you slid your hand between your bodies and fingered yourself into another painful orgasm. The pair of you filled the room with shouts of the other’s name as water splashed onto the floor.

* * *

Whatever water remained in the tub had cooled, but you couldn’t really move. John had gone soft while still inside you, and there he remained. He drew lazy circles on your back and hips as you trailed your fingers through the hair on his chest and the back of his neck.

You were on the verge of falling asleep when he kissed your forehead, lips lingering as he hummed. “We should probably move.”

His beard tickled the bridge of your nose. “Probably.”

“And clean up the water on the floor.”

Again with the tickling. “That, too.”

* * *

John had just flicked off the bathroom light when your phone rang. It was late, later than socially acceptable to be calling someone. Your stomach dropped when you saw who was calling. “Chuck?”

He was out of breath and his voice shook as if panic had a grip on his vocal cords. “Y/N, I… I need your help. I think… I think I fucked up.”

“What happened?” You had already pulled on a pair of socks and jeans to go with another one of John’s t-shirts. John was quickly getting dressed as you hastily threw your hair into a pony tail.

“I can’t talk about it over the phone. They’re listening.”

You followed John into the living room and shoved shoes on your feet as he did the same. “Where are you?”

“Aren’t you paying attention, Y/N? They’re listening!”

“You gotta work with me, here. How am I supposed to help if you don’t talk to me?”

Chuck blew a long breath into the phone before answering. “That place where they make the best margaritas.”

It took you a few seconds of rummaging through your memories before you remembered. “Was it that night, three years ago in August?”

Another sigh from Chuck, but this one was in relief that you had cracked his code. “Yes.”

Before you could say anything else, the line clicked, disconnecting loudly in your ear. John was standing in front of you, keys in hand. “You know you should call Doctor Singer.”

“I know. I just… John, he sounded so scared.” Your words were thick, as if you were choking on them.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, pulling in a deep breath through his nose. “I know, baby. But he’s sick and he needs help.”

You grit your teeth, nodding once before dialing the direct line to Robert Singer. 


End file.
